


it's a no-brainer

by tobeconvincedoflove



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, Hospitals, also i shouldn't watch grey's anatomy and then write fic, but alas today is not that day, enjolras is lost?, head injuries, hmm what else, jesust chirst I need to stop hurting Enjolras in these fics, kind of ooc because head injuries really do screw with personalities, yeah there will come a day when I will edit things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconvincedoflove/pseuds/tobeconvincedoflove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras didn't know where he was. The fact that he'd smashed his head into the pavement probably wasn't helping matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a no-brainer

Enjolras didn’t know where he was. Normally, this wasn’t problematic, thanks to the genius of the maps app on his iPhone, but Enjolras didn’t even remember what the app icon looked like. 

The last thing he could say he remembered with absolute certainty was the rally. It had been pretty normal—lots of shouting, Enjolras gave a speech, and then some asshats decided to start a fight—until the police broke out their riot shields and night sticks and tear gas and a hundred other things. That was when everyone panicked, Enjolras got pulled off the makeshift stage and swept into the crowd, which was fine until someone shoved him down. It was just bad luck that caused his head to hit the curb. He’d blacked out for a bit, but then he’d woken up and started walking. (Or, as Enjolras called it, the Second Blackout).

And that was pretty much it. He had no idea where he was, only that it was on an unmarked street and it was dark and he was sitting in what was most likely a puddle left-over from last night’s rain. 

That was when the mysterious box he’d been holding ( _iPhone, Enjolras_ , his brain supplied eventually) decided to light up. That set the pain in his head off again. _Shit,_ Enjolras thought. _How the fuck do I answer this?_

So he just tapped at the screen in different directions until it made a little clicking noise. That was when he put the phone next to his ear. ( _That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?_ )

“Enjolras, where are you?” _Combeferre_ , Enjolras’s brain supplied. Thank god not everything was a giant fuzzball. 

“I… I don’t know,” Enjolras said, trying to sound authoritative, but it came out like a question. A whispered one, at that, because talking louder hurt his head. 

“Courfeyrac and I are in the car. Are there any street signs? Are you hurt?” Combeferre’s questions were short and urgent, and that got through. Enjolras needed to answer.

“No. It’s dark and there aren’t any traffic lights. I hit my head a while ago.” At his last sentence, Combeferre inhaled sharply, before there was a weird noise and suddenly it wasn’t Combeferre's voice on the phone anymore.

“Okay, you’re talking to Courfeyrac now. Listen, E, have you had any nausea? Do you remember walking to wherever you are? Wait—shit. That’s it!” Suddenly Courfeyrac turned to Combeferre, and it got quieter, but Enjolras could still hear. “Give me your phone. Yes, I know I'm already on _my_ phone with Enjolras, but I need yours. You made him put that ‘find your puppy’ or whatever app on his phone after he got lost at the last rally, and we can find him from there.” There was a bit more static, then Enjolras started talking. 

“I’m only a little nauseous. ‘M tired, though,” Enjolras admitted, and his eyelids started drooping.

“Okay no sleeping. Just keep talking to me,” Courfeyrac said. “We’re pretty close to where you are, it’ll be like five minutes, Enjolras. Come on, tell me how much you remember.” 

“I don’t know. There was the chaos and then I got pushed and I hit my head against the curb and blacked out for a bit. Then I got up and started walking, but I don’t remember how. I think that I did it like those tempo runs from high school cross country, Courfeyrac.” Enjolras just felt tired. He wanted to sleep and he didn’t want to talk to Courfeyrac and the curb was really comfortable. 

“That would make sense. Kept taking right then left turns would do it,” Courfeyrac admitted. “Okay, can you see us? The tracker says you’re near.” Sure enough, Enjolras saw headlights. _Shit, those were bright._

“I see you,” Enjolras replied, keeping his eyes open. He stood up to greet his friends, who were running full-speed at him. Courfeyrac, naturally faster and not burdened by the first aid kit, got there first. 

“Okay, sit back down,” was the first thing Courfeyrac said, gently pushing his friend into a sitting position. “Shit, is that blood? Jesus Christ, Enjolras.”

“I thought it was rain,” Enjolras mumbled as Combeferre sat down in front of Enjolras, opening up the first aid kit and pulling out a flashlight. 

“We’ve got to get him to the hospital. He needs a CT scan at the very least, because with that much blood he might have fractured his skull,” Courfeyrac said over Enjolras’s head.

“No, I don’t have insurance—“ Enjolras tried to articulate, but was ignored. 

“His left pupil’s completely blown out and he’s got raccoon eyes. Go and pull the car over here. We need to leave now,” Combeferre replied, before turning to Enjolras. “Follow the light with your eyes, E,” he ordered softly, which Enjolras did to the best of his ability (it wasn’t an impressive display). “Can you tell me your full name?”

“Julien Enjolras,” Enjolras replied with confidence, but his voice sounded slurred even to him. 

“What day is it today?” Combeferre immediately asked, and Enjolras panicked. He had no idea.

“Thursday?” he guessed, but judging by the look on his best friend’s face, it wasn’t the right answer. But, the other man’s tattoos of moths up his arms were so pretty it almost didn’t bother Enjolras. “I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Yes you did.” Despite all of his calm, Combeferre sounded worried, but Courfeyrac had arrived with the car. “Okay, Enjolras. I’m going to put you in Courfeyrac’s car now, and we’re going to the hospital. You cannot fall asleep. You hear me? Not an option.” Enjolras nodded, and didn’t protest when Combeferre carefully picked him up and placed him in the backseat of the van, before sitting next to him. 

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said, but Combeferre just pulled Enjolras’s head into his lap, his hands firmly holding it in place.

“You can’t move around or you’ll hurt your head more,” Combeferre said in what Enjolras called the ‘doctor’ tone of voice. “Keep talking to me.”

“I’m tired,” Enjolras repeated. His eyes started to flutter shut, but a light slap to the face forced them open again.

“None of that, E. I need to see your eyes. The hospital is only ten minutes away. Just stay awake for ten more minutes. Talk to me about the rally,” Combeferre said, his thumb brushing some of the blood off of Enjolras’s face. 

“The speech went okay, but—“ Enjolras started, only to be cut off by Combeferre.

“The speech was brilliant. It was one of your best.” Combeferre’s voice was quiet, but completely genuine. He kept talking to Enjolras, but the taps on his face got a lot more frequent. Until…

“Sick. I’m gonna—“ Enjolras started, trying to roll over so he could vomit, but Combeferre still held him in place. That was when his eyes closed, and didn’t want to open again. No matter how many times Combeferre tapped his face, Enjolras couldn’t will his eyes to open. And he was so tired…

“Come on, Enjolras, we’re in the parking lot. Just stay awake,” Courfeyrac willed, before the bright lights penetrated Enjolras’s closed eyelids at the same time Combeferre hit his chest _hard_. That forced Enjolras’s eyes open, but only for a second. He was too tired and the lights were too bright and he could hear the ocean. 

Enjolras vaguely heard someone screaming his name before he finally gave up. He let himself slip into unconsciousness, like a wave rolling onto the shore.

*****

When Enjolras’s eyes opened again, he was in a hospital room with IV’s and machines and an oxygen tube in his nose, and Courfeyrac was holding one hand while Combeferre was asleep next to the other. There were hand-drawn cards from (what he guessed) were his friends, but he couldn’t remember the name of their group.

“Please don’t let this be another ‘minimally conscious’ moment,” Courfeyrac said, looking straight at Enjolras, before pressing the red call button.

“What?” Enjolras asked, but his voice sounded raspier than a pre-pubescent chronic smoker. “Courf, you didn’t need to-“

“Yeah I did. I’ve had to the last five times you’ve woken up for a second or two, because the nurses need to do a ‘post-traumatic amnesia test’ on you. Guessing on how you’re still awake, this one isn’t a false alarm so they’ll actually do the test. And, boy, are you going to fail.” Courfeyrac laughed at the end, but stopped when far too many nurses to be normal filed into the room, followed by four doctors. _What the fuck had happened?_

“We’ll just be getting coffee,” Courfeyrac said, before nudging Combeferre awake and dragging him out of the room. 

That was when the questions started. Enjolras didn’t know how he was supposed to know what day it was since he _literally just woke up_ (it was a Wednesday. He’d have to remember that because it would mean tomorrow would be Thursday.), or what hospital he was being treated at, because he was sure he was unconscious when he arrived. Luckily, Enjolras did know his name and managed to remembered the five pictures they showed him (dog, flower, bed, tree, candle), but that was really hard when he had to remember it with the dates and his name and the doctor talking to him and everything else. 

When the nurses and doctors finally left, Combeferre and Courfeyrac immediately slipped back into the room, cups of coffee in hand. 

“How badly did you fail?” was the first thing out of Courfeyrac’s mouth, which caused Enjolras to glare at his friend.

“Dog, flower, bed, tree, and candle,” he repeated tonelessly, which only caused Courfeyrac to laugh harder.

“Tell that to them again after you sleep for a while and wake up again,” was his only response as he took a sip of his coffee.

“I would kill for some of that, Courf. I’m so tired,” Enjolras replied, which caused Combeferre and Courfeyrac to exchange a look. 

“Try to stay awake for a bit longer, Enjolras,” Combeferre urged lightly, grabbing his best friend’s hand. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen those eyes open.”

“How long was I out?” Enjolras immediately asked in response, looking at his friends with wide eyes. 

“Five days.” Courfeyrac’s voice was quiet, and he looked down as he said it. 

“What?” Enjolras gasped (still sounding incredibly hoarse, by the way). 

“The first three days you were in a medically-induced coma, E,” Combeferre started to explain, and the monitor that electronically projected Enjolras’s heartbeat sped up a little. “You were intubated, too, which explains the sore throat. They had to wait for the swelling in your brain to go down before they could take you out of it. It was really touch-and-go for a while, because they weren’t sure you were going to wake up. Then they took you off the drugs, and luckily, you did.” Enjolras didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just looked down at the IV’s in his arm. 

“Are the others okay?” he asked eventually, looking pleadingly between his two best friends. 

“They’re all fine. Worried about you—you have them to thank for the wonderful array of crayon-colored cards, and Bahorel to thank for that teddy bear—but, physically, nothing more than bumps and bruises. They’ve all been here with you, at one point or another. We didn’t want to leave you alone, see. Still don’t, but we called them while you were with the doctors. They’re all really happy that you’re going to be okay,” Courfeyrac rambled, smiling a little bit at Enjolras. There was a certain wetness in his eyes, though, but Enjolras was too tired to puzzle it out. 

“Hey, you should get some rest,” Combeferre said, rubbing Enjolras’s hand a little. “Someone will be here when you wake up.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Ferre, and Courf. For staying with me.” Enjolras’s voice was almost a whisper as he let his eyes close again. 

“Sleep well, mon ami,” Courfeyrac said, placing a light kiss on Enjolras’s temple. Just before Enjolras completely faded into unconsciousness, he thought he could hear Courfeyrac saying ‘dog, flower, bed, tree, and candle’ to Combeferre, as if they were going to test him when he woke up on them. 

_I’ll fucking show them when I actually remember_. And then, there was peace again.

**Author's Note:**

> comment, please? *winks*


End file.
